The Pain Lives on in his Nightmares
by nothinghappenstome
Summary: Prompt:  Sherlock and John are lying in bed, and Sherlock wants to help John, but accidentally starts a nightmare.


Prompt:  
>Sherlock and John are lying in bed, and Sherlock wants to help John, but accidentally starts a nightmare.<p>

Sherlock was lying awake, John's head rested on his shoulder as he remained asleep. Sherlock studied his boyfriend, knowing just how those eyes sparkled blue in the sun. The soft sandy brown hair that had started to grow out of the army haircut. He watched the gentle rise and fall of John's chest, and placed his hand on John's heart. As he listened and felt John's breathing and heart rate he knew that John would be waking soon. He smiled, and as the morning sunlight started to pour into the room, John began to stir.

John slowly opened his eyes, and looked up at Sherlock. "Morning." He settled into Sherlock's arms, breathing in Sherlock. Sherlock moved his arm from John's heart to pull John closer, burying his face into John's hair. They remained that way, as they breathed in each other until John moved slightly and winced in pain.  
>"John? Are you ok?" Sherlock loosened his grip and John and moved back slightly. "Sit up; it's your arm that's hurting." It wasn't a question; it was a statement, or an order.<br>"It's just stiff; it often is in the morning." John sat on the edge of his bed, and he started to massage his arm.  
>"No, let me." John looked behind to Sherlock, realised he was being serious and nodded.<br>"Remove your top." John slowly took off his top with help from Sherlock. Sherlock moved forward and placed his legs either side of John's hips, and wrapped their legs together.  
>"Relax, breathe." He started to massage gently round the scar, before he moved so very gently towards the centre of the scar. John relaxed into Sherlock's touch until Sherlock hit a raw nerve. He was sent straight back to Afghanistan with one single wrong touch.<p>

_"Watson! __Retreat! __Leave __him; y__ou'll __get __shot __by __the __snipers. __Watson, __that's __an __order!" __John's __gaze __never __left __the __soldier __he __was __tending __to.__  
>"I <em>_can't __leave __him; __he's __losing __too __much __blood. __He'll __die!"__  
>"Watson, <em>_now!__That's __an __order!" __John's __heart __was __torn. __It __didn't __hurt __when __he __left __his __family __to __join __the __army. __It __didn't __hurt __when __his __best __friend __died f__or __him. __It __hurt __now, __being __torn __away __from __saving __someone's __life. __He __looked __at __the __dying __soldier, __losing __too __much __blood __too __quickly. __John __could __see __the __blood __covering __the __sand, __the __wind b__lowing __sand __into __the __bleeding __mess __and __burying __it __deep. __The red __liquid b__ecame __covered __in __yellow __spots __of __sand, __and __started __to __form __in __lumps __on __the __sandy __floor.__  
>"I-I-"<em>_John __screamed __in __agony, __as __the __bullet __hit __his __shoulder. __He c__ollapsed __onto __his __back, __arching __his __body __in __pain. __He __felt __someone __run __to __his __side, __pressing __down __on __John's __shoulder, __causing __white __lights __to __dance __in__front __of __his __eyes.__  
>"Doctor <em>_down! __I __repeat, doctor is __DOWN." __The __soldier __looked __back __at __John, __and __spoke __more __softly.__  
>"Hold <em>_on, __the __helicopter __will __be __here __within __minutes. __Hold __on, __Watson, __please." __John __continued __to __arch __and __scream __in __pain, __the __hot __Afghanistan __wind __blowing __sand __into __his __bleeding __shoulder. __The __last __thing __John __remembered __was __hearing t__he __helicopter __blades spinning, __the __screaming __of __his __voice __before __blackness __enveloped __him._

John woke from his flashback, in Sherlock's arms crying and screaming in pain.  
>"John it's ok. You're not in Afghanistan anymore, John you're safe." Sherlock rocked John back and forth, stroked his hair away from his sweat drenched forehead until John stopped screaming out.<br>"John I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry." Sherlock gently kissed John's forehead, and continued to hold him close whilst John cried.  
>"Sh-Sherlock... N-not your f-fault. Bad m-memories." He buried his face into Sherlock's top, as the tears of fear and pain ran down his face.<p>

He slowly calmed down, remembering that the war is his past that he wasn't in the desert and blistering heat now. He pulled on his t-shirt after drying his last tears, before looking back at Sherlock and settling back in his arms.  
>"I'm sorry you had to witness that, me screaming and crying out. I'm sorry."<br>"John," Sherlock looked at John, cupped John's cheek in his hand, "You don't ever need to apologise to me." He moved slowly forward, almost closing the gap, halting, unsure whether to continue.  
>"I need you, to make it not hurt so much, to make the memory stop..." John whispered before he gently kissed Sherlock.<br>"I'm not going anywhere, I promise." Sherlock smiled and pulled John onto his lap, stroking his back and whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

* * *

><p><strong>I got inspiration for this after visiting a tank museum in Bovington, and looking round the Afghanistan exhibition. I hope you enjoy it. All mistakes are mine. Please review~<strong>

**Olivia x**


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